Love is no substitute for chocolate
by silverbirch
Summary: Hermione thinks Valentine's Day is nothing more than a piece of tacky, commercial exploitation.  Maybe she needs to learn a few home truths. Enter Luna Lovegood, stage left.    For OCDdegrassi's Anti-Valentine's Day Competition.    I'm not JK Rowling.


Hermione awoke, stretched and reached for her homework planner. Normally she didn't do that until she was dressed but, even though she'd checked it before she went to sleep last night, there was a nagging little doubt in the back of her mind that she might have overlooked _something_. Potions would be bad enough, but Charms or Transfiguration? That would be unforgivable. She couldn't even begin to imagine the look on Professor McGonagall's face. It wouldn't be anger, but hurt and disappointment and the thought of that was too much to bear. She ran through the list of everything that needed handing in that day; it was all ticked, and cross-referenced to her filing system. She could relax.

Then she saw the date. Wednesday February 14th, 1996. February 14th. Valentines Day.

Hermione sunk back on her pillow with a groan. She was quite happy, usually, to go along with traditions, even Halloween; which seemed to have a lot more importance in the magical world than it did in her own. But, Valentine's Day?

She snorted. A tawdry piece of exploitation; something to keep the card and flower industry busy between Christmas and Easter and everybody fell for it. Even her mother expected presents. Her mother! The woman who started complaining about the commercialisation of Christmas around the middle of October.

She had to smile at the memory of one Valentine's, though. Her dad, thinking it would be funny, arranged to have _**two**_ bunches of flowers and _**two**_ cards delivered. Hermione's mum had been in a fine old state for about an hour, until she figured out what was probably going on. So, she decided to turn the tables on him by going out and buying another bunch and another card. Her dad had been very quiet all evening, whilst her mum hummed perky little tunes and looked smug.

Hermione glanced at the clock by her bedside. Just before seven; if she was quick she could...

'Ooh! Six! The best year ever!'

Too late. Lavender had woken up, so there was another ritual to go through. Hermione put a pillow over her head, but couldn't block out the noise. First came the sound of an envelope being ripped open. Then a giggle.

'Ernie McMillan. He's been trying since second year. Can he not take a hint? _Incendio_!' Another rip. 'This must be Zabini's; he sends out so many he doesn't have time to write anything in them. _Incendio_!' A third rip. 'Oh no...I don't believe it! Parvati, come and have a look at this one!'

There was the sound of feet tripping across the floor and a body sitting on a bed. 'Who's it from?'

'Neville Longbottom!' This was followed by about a minute of giggling and screeching. Hermione tried two pillows.

'How do you know it's from him?'

'Listen to the...poem.

_Snarglepuffs are green_

_Tentaculars are blue_

_But I like Lavender_

_Would you like to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon?_

_Yours sincerely _

_Neville.'_

'Oh, bless him; that's so sweet!'

_'Incendio_!'

Hermione gave up and stomped off to have a shower, ignoring the call of 'So how many did you get, then?', followed by more giggles. Hermione never got a Valentine card...ever. Not that she wanted one...obviously.

-o0o-

By lunchtime Hermione had had enough and just wanted the day to be over. Ron had been acting rather strangely all morning, and wouldn't talk to her. Harry had been too nervous to talk to anyone. Valentine's was a half day at Hogwarts and he was taking Cho to Hogsmeade that afternoon. Hermione's plan was to go up her room and get some homework done.

She eventually gave up trying to climb the stairs against the constant stream of people going the other way and plonked herself down in an alcove, where she could look at the scene of mayhem in the Entrance Hall and generally tut and mutter under her breath at the ridiculousness of it all.

'Wrackspurts are easier to get rid of it you stay calm.'

Hermione turned to see Luna sat next to her. The day was getting better and better. 'Pardon?'

'Wrackspurts can be quite mischievous if they see you getting flustered. Try waving your hands slower, like this...' Oh, dear Lord, she was going to start demonstrating.

'I wasn't trying to get rid of Wrackspurts.'

'Oh. Well, I'll show you anyway; you never know when it might come in useful. Daddy taught me how to do it. He's a world authority on them, you know.'

'Please don't!'

'Have it your way, but don't come complaining to me when they start following you.' There was a silence, which only Hermione appeared to find awkward. Luna smiled at her and then stared off into the middle distance, humming something. 'So, what were you doing then?'

Hermione pointed to the Hall, which was now a seething mass of bodies. 'Look at them. Idiots.'

'Ah, that will be because it's Valentines day.'

'I know. But why should that be an excuse? Look at Susan Bones. You couldn't find a more sensible, articulate girl but there she is, dressed up like a...well, dressed like that and fluttering her eyelashes, for Merlin's sake, because Terry Boot's gone to all the trouble of going to a shop and buying a card. It's ridiculous, I mean they don't even know what they're "celebrating". Do you know how many saints are called Valentine?'

'Fourteen.'

'There are...How do you know that?'

Luna shrugged. 'I read things. Anyway, I don't think it's got anything to do with saints. I have a theory, about the moths.'

Hermione was rendered speechless for a while. 'I know I'm probably going to regret this but...what about the moths?'

'There's a genus of moths called _Valentinia, _you see_' _said Luna, as if stating the obvious. 'Most moths and butterflies attract a mate by releasing pheromones into the air, and I think that's what affects people. It's all quite logical, apart from the fact they live in America and don't breed until later in the year.' She mused on that for a while. 'Maybe it has to blow over here on the wind, which is why it takes nine months to arrive. Hmm...So how many cards did you get then?

Hermione waved her hand impatiently. 'None. Why would I want to?' She nodded back to Susan Bones, who was now smiling rather widely as she looked at Terry. 'I certainly wouldn't want to end up like that. I have my pride.'

Luna nodded and smoothed her robes over her knees. 'You've never had one, have you?' she asked quietly.

'No.'

Luna suddenly flushed red. 'What about a love letter?'

'Well, yes.' It was Hermione's turn to colour. 'It was from Jamie Kitchener, when I was nine.'

'Really?' Luna's protuberant eyes opened wider. 'Did you end up kissing him?'

Hermione played with a loose thread on her skirt. 'No. I corrected his grammar and spelling and sent it back to him and he didn't write again. Or speak to me. I've never had a Valentine's card. Besides, who'd send me one?'

'I'm surprised Ronald didn't, ' Luna said, simply.

'WHAT? Ron? Why would he send me a card, apart from a rather pathetic attempt at a joke of course? Which would be par for the course.'

'He loves you.'

'No he doesn't,' Hermione spluttered. 'Don't be ridiculous.'

Luna nodded her head. 'He does. His colour changes when he's near you.'

'Ron's always blushing, especially when he's trying to get me to do his homework for him.'

Luna shook her head. 'Not his skin; his aura. It goes a rather nice shade of bright pink; it's a sure sign he's in love with you. It's quite obvious when he's standing next to you in DA classes. You've honestly never noticed?'

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. 'His only aura is when he forgets to change his socks, like he did last Saturday. Ron? No. I don't think he's really my type. I'm so organised and he...isn't. Have you noticed he doesn't even know how to fold a T-shirt properly before he puts it away? You can tell from the creases. And, speaking of socks, he doesn't match them. I know they're all orange but how hard is it to see which ones have been washed more and the colour's faded?'

She was now picking at a little hole in her tights, and making it bigger. 'And another thing. He's got this habit of missing a bit when he shaves, which he's doing three times a week now. Just under his left ear lobe it is. I'd tell him but he'd probably just laugh at me and say I'm being obsessive. I don't think I could ever fall in love with somebody like that.'

Hermione gave herself a shake. 'Anyway, enough about Ron...me. Did you get a card?'

Luna patted her on the knee. 'No. My dad always sends me a big bar of Honeydukes chocolate, though. We can share it, if you want.'

Hermione nodded. 'Thank you. I'd like that. I'd rather fall in chocolate than love!'

They giggled as they made their way through the rapidly thinning crowd. Susan Bones was walking out through the main doors arm in arm with Terry and both girls stopped to watched her go. She seemed very happy.

'You know,' said Luna, apparently to herself, 'it must be hard to pretend to love somebody when you don't.' She turned to face Hermione. 'Although I reckon it must be even harder to pretend you don't love somebody when you really do.' She smiled. 'I'll go and get the chocolate.'


End file.
